Dancing with Death 'aka a megalomaniac Dark Lord'
by completeandutternutter
Summary: Ginny Weasley's life is about to turn upside down, as she is tasked with saving the world... by Dancing with Death...or, more precisely, a megalomaniac, self absorbed and psychotic Dark Lord.
1. Chapter 1

**Dancing with Death**… (or more precisely; a megalomaniac, self-absorbed and highly psychotic Dark Lord)

Ginny Weasley had been having a very normal summer, thank you very much. A little boring, a little mundane; but normal all the same. Well… as normal as life generally became around the Burrow, with the whole, and considerably large, Weasley clan in residence.

Her father had found a Muggle television that someone had dumped by the roadside in Ottery St. Catchpole, and had spent the summer trying to make it work without electricity. After experimenting with an impressive display of charms and transfigurations, he had succeeded at electrocuting himself after his wife forced him to wash his hands following dinner. Entirely too eager to get back to his little black box, he had absentmindedly forgotten to dry his hands. It appeared that even magically induced televisions object to dripping wet, tinkering hands. With a few puffs of blue steam, an impressive crackling noise and a bolt of electricity, Mr Weasley was sent tumbling across the room, shrieking in pain, and now sporting a very orange hairstyle which looked like it was imitating a rather scrawny hedgehog.

Her mother had spent the best part of twenty minutes shrieking demonically at her father, before deciding, upon reflection, that an unconscious subject just didn't display the range of fear she usually elicited. Unfortunately, after taking her husband to St. Mungo's, she then wasted a further quarter of an hour when she was asked by the receptionist which ward Mr Weasley needed to be taken to. Apparently, deciding between; _Ground Floor: Artifact Accident; Fourth Floor: Spell Damage (incorrectly applied charms) _and_ Fourth Floor: Spell Damage (long term residents, aka, the loony ward), _was just too much for her. A very irritated nurse had finally had to step in and tackle the problem instead.

Her eldest brother, Bill, was aiming for a promotion at Gringotts, and currently had a bizarre collection of cursed chests spread out over the living room floor, as he worked to remove the harmful spells. Ron had accidentally tripped over one of these and spent a week hopping around on one foot, as his other had mysteriously vanished.

Charlie had rescued one of his baby dragons from a spate of bullying it was enduring from its elder siblings, and was currently housing it in the garden shed. He had yet to tell his mother about the Burrow's newest resident; she was, after all, still recovering from the latest incident involving her two identical sons.

Percy was in the dog-house.

Fred and George had nearly succeeded in giving her mother a heart attack with their latest inventions; a range of trick products disguised as house-hold cleaning detergents. Mrs Weasley had spent an entire afternoon the size of a dormouse, after she had unknowingly used the twins' new washing up liquid to clean her dishes with. Fred and George had been delighted to discover that the infamous shouting prowess of Mrs Weasley was far less imposing when she was a mere two inches tall; they had been severely unimpressed when she, and her voice, returned to their normal size.

Ron was trying to decide on the right way to tell Hermione he loved her. Well, he hadn't realised this himself yet, but he spent enough time daydreaming into space that Ginny assumed he was conjuring up melodramatic images of their very first kiss. She had also gained very good control over her ruthless teasing ability; this new talent had come in very useful when she had walked into Ron's room to find him flirting with himself in the bathroom mirror.

As for Ginny? Well, Ginny had completed her summer homework, rescued her mouse-sized mother from being eaten by their pet owl and thought up fifty-seven different ways that one Harry Potter would finally realise his true feelings for her.

Ginny was also about to get a very unusual visitor, and a very unwelcome surprise.

Suffice it to say that Ginny Weasley's perfectly normal summer holiday was about to become decidedly abnormal…


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

The date was July the twenty-fourth. Precisely a week until Harry Potter's sixteenth birthday; precisely a week until he came to stay at the Burrow; and precisely a week to think up a suitable 'I desperately want you to be my boyfriend' present. Precisely a week for Ginny to think up a dastardly plan to make him fall head-over-heels in love with her.

Ginny groaned and dropped her head onto the pillow her arms formed as they rested on her desk. It was never going to happen; not in a million years. Not only was she without suitable funds and wearing hand-me-down robes, but she was the little sister of one Ronald Weasley.

Ronald Weasley; aka, celebrated best friend of Harry Potter.

Harry wouldn't touch her with a barge-pole if it meant upsetting Ron, who just _had _to be stubbornly and ridiculously over-protective. Ginny cursed her brother; as much as she loved him, things would just be so much simpler if he and Harry weren't joined at the hip. Then maybe Harry would see her as a woman, instead of some little girl who he had to be nice to because of his best mate.

The problem, therefore, Ginny mused, was Ron. Get Ron to agree to the match, perhaps even actively seek it, and Harry would be hers. Ginny smiled. Ron would be difficult, she had no illusions about that, but Ginny was not the only daughter of Molly Weasley and the secret protégée of her twin brothers for nothing… Perhaps a little blackmail on the Hermione front would make Ron lighten up slightly. Ginny smirked evilly; the plan was foolproof. If there was one thing Ron dreaded the most, it was Hermione finding out his true feelings for her. He would do anything to protect that little dirty secret… absolutely anything…

Smiling happily now that she had an idea to work through, Ginny turned off the lights and tucked herself into bed. Sighing deeply as sleep claimed her, Ginny had no idea that this was the last decent night's sleep she would get in a long, long, time…

Blinking fuzzily, Ginny yawned and rubbed her eyes, trying to wake herself up. It couldn't be morning already could it? She felt like she'd only just gone to bed. Finally opening her bleary eyes, Ginny yelped and jumped backwards as she focused on the figure of a woman. A figure which definitely didn't belong to her mother or any other Weasley female…

The woman in front of her looked more like some bizarre spirit than a real, warm-blooded human. She had skin so pale it looked almost translucent, delicate cheekbones, soft pale lips and deep, vibrant, indigo eyes. Indeed, her eyes were the only part of her which actually looked alive and real. The rest looked as if she was about to fade away. She was painfully thin, wisp like, with a figure which made Ginny and her more curvaceous lines, rather envious. She had pale, almost white hair which trailed to her waist, and was wearing a simple white, floor length gown. The dress was beautiful; fitted at the top, covering her shoulders, throat and cleavage, but it flared out at the hips so that the bottom was spread out in a delicate semi-circle as it trailed along the floor. There was a delicate sheen to the material as well, which sparkled oddly when it caught the light, making the woman in front of her look even more like some bizarre angel.

Snapping her attention back to the present, Ginny gave herself a little shake and whipped her head around, trying to figure out where she was. She was standing in what looked like an auditorium. Great marble pillars surrounded the room on all sides, while a twinkling chandelier swayed overhead. Slotted windows adorned the room, allowing light to filter through in shallow streams, highlighting dust motes and miniature rainbows in thin strips. Apart from that, the room was empty, and looked like it hadn't been used in a while.

Shifting uncomfortable, Ginny suddenly realised that she was still wearing her nightdress, and flushed in embarrassment. Trust her subconscious to outfit her in a nightdress during such a bizarre dream.

Jerking her head up, she snapped at the still immobile woman, "Is this a dream?"

The woman didn't blink, but did seem to consider her for a few moments, before uttering softly. "No."

Ginny snorted. "I don't believe you." The woman only raised one delicate eyebrow, which made Ginny feel about two inches tall. She took a few steps backwards, intending to put some distance between herself and this curious woman.

Her feet slapped against the cold stone floor and she shivered. Wrapping her arms around herself to fend off the chills, Ginny started to get rather nervous. Her dreams were never really this… real. Yes, admittedly, the strange woman and the odd hall she found herself in did seem rather far-fetched for real life, but there was no denying the feel of the stone under her soles or the goose-pimples on her flesh. Her dreams usually revolved around either Harry, or something completely ridiculous such as Hippogriffs playing Quittich.

She whipped around but the woman was still there; watching her. Deciding that, even if this was a dream, she might as well play along, Ginny demanded, "Who are you? Where am I?"

The woman was silent for a second before replying quietly. "I am Mithostiel. Your other question is of no importance at this time." Her voice had a melodic, musical air to it, yet Ginny bristled at the words.

"I have a right to know where I am!" She was rather embarrassed to hear a whiny note creep into her tone, and forced her shoulders back and lifted her chin to meet the woman's stare directly.

Her answer was merely another of those awful raised eyebrows, and Ginny flushed once more. Determined not to back down, despite how foolish she felt standing here facing this strange woman in nothing but her nightdress, Ginny growled.

"Why am I here then? Why have you brought me here?" She still wasn't sure if 'here' was not actually her subconscious, toying with her in some strange lucid dream.

"Because you are The Chosen," was the cryptic reply. "Come, child. We have much to discuss."

Ginny felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end as the woman turned and started walking towards a far door, and, feeling like she was about to make a big mistake, Ginny unwillingly followed in her wake.


End file.
